


Justice, Mercy, Grace

by transmarkcohen



Category: Rent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-19 21:23:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16542518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transmarkcohen/pseuds/transmarkcohen
Summary: Joanne is the best damn lawyer in the city.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeadlinesBreadlinesBlowMyMind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadlinesBreadlinesBlowMyMind/gifts).



      “Joanne is...helping me with a project,” Mark explained to Mimi, sitting on her couch. He smiled politely. It didn’t reach his eyes.   
      Mimi poured herself another cup of tea. “Really?” She asked. “One of your film endeavors?” She laughed. Mark’s shortcomings were not rarely poked fun at.   
      “No,” Mark moved his hands so that they were gripping the edge of the couch. He kind of rocked back on it, unsure what to say so that Mimi wouldn’t pry.   
      “A special project,” Joanne explained. She was confident. Good at what she did. Every one of their friends agreed that Joanne was the smartest person in their group-though maybe not the wisest. “Mark came to me the other day and asked me to help him with it. It’s outside his area of expertise, so he needed me for help.”   
      Mark looked at Joanne and gave her a grateful, yet nervous smile, and she returned a glad and confident one.   
      “Cool,” Mimi said. “You two met when you went to help Maureen, right?”   
      “Yeah!” Mark jumped in, glad for the change of subject, his hands flying back into his lap. “See, we both went to go fix her equipment, because she called me to help even though Joanne told her not to...”   
      Mark rambled on, wearing the evening away from his memory. Thank God. 

      After they were done, Mark and Joanne stepped outside the building to talk about the project away from Mimi and other prying ears. Mark’s hands were still shaking. He’d always been a nervous, jittery mess when talking, flinging his hadns every which way, but when the reason for the project was mentioned, he started trembling.   
     Joanne noticed this immediately. “Are you alright?” She asked. One streetlight was on behind her. It flickered every now and then. Luckily, it was pretty steady tonight.   
     Mark clamped his hands together to try and stop them from shaking. “Yeah...” he said, almost absentmindedly. “I, uh, it’s just-you know, with Mimi asking-“   
     Joanne smiled at him sympathetically. A touch of worry showed in her face. “I know, Mark,” she said softly. “You don’t have to justify it to me. That’s what I’m helping you with, right? Helping you get justice for the-for what happened. Sorry.”   
     “It’s fine,” Mark mumbled. He cast his eyes down towards the sidewalk.   
     “Is it?”   
     “I-okay, no.” Mark looked away from Joanne, uncomfortable. He looked as though he wanted to sink into himself.   
      Joanne decided to change the subject. “How long have you been wearing your binder?”   
      Mark looked back at her, but still didn’t meet her eyes. “Oh. Uh...ten hours-“   
      “Take it off.”   
      Mark shifted, uncomfortable. “I don’t-I don’t want to, uh-right now I mean. I’ll take it off soon.”   
      “How soon?” Joanne asked, softly but firmly.  
      Mark was quiet.   
      “Few minutes.”   
      “Okay. Good.” Mark looked up at her, finally meeting her eyes. “Mark?”  
      “Uh-yeah?”  
      “Can I hug you?”   
      “Yeah. That would be nice. Thank you.”   
      The two embraced. Mark’s sweater was soft and warm.   
      They separated, Mark promising that he would take off his binder as soon as he got back to his apartment after walking up the stairs. 


	2. Chapter 2

    Mark sat across from Joanne at the table, helping her review what she needed for this case. Sometimes it was hard for him to go through with this. Luckily, that wasn’t the case today.   
    Joanne went through a paper, mumbling. She looked up at Mark. “Can you tell me again?” she asked.   
    Mark fidgeted. “I-well-no. No, I can’t.”   
    “Okay,” Joanne said. She tried to sound comforting, but Mark could hear the disappointment. He folded his hands again and began to wonder what the judge would think. With both him and Joanne there? Man, that would be...interesting. And by interesting, Mark meant terrifying.   
    “What is...the thing, again?” Mark asked quickly, trying not to meet Joanne’s eyes. He didn’t like eye contact. He used to.   
    “New York Penal Code 130.52 to 130.70,” Joanne responded automatically. She rummaged through the papers on her desk for something. “We’ll be fine. I swear.”   
    “Are you sure....?” Mark asked, but the question hung in the air. Joanne remained quiet. Mark didn’t ask again, unsure if she hadn’t heard him or if she wasn’t sure.   
    Joanne glanced at the clock and cursed. “Dammit. I’ve got to go to the pharmacy. Estrogen, you know.”   
    Mark nodded. “Can I stay here and look through your books?” he asked. “I want to know where we are on this.”   
    Joanne stood up quickly and nodded. “Yes. Of course. Okay, I’ll see you later.”   
    “See you.”   
    Joanne left, leaving Mark to become absorbed in her books. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for the second part of this chapter.

     Looking back on all that had happened, Mark thought he’d been an idiot. Joanne adamantly reassured him that he wasn’t. But no matter what she said or did, that tiny little sliver of doubt remained.   
     Mark frustratedly scratched out the line of dialogue in his screenplay. Thoughts about what had happened kept intruding upon his creative process, and this catharsis wasn’t working. He forcefully ran his hand through his hair, ostensibly angry.   
      _Why?_ He kept thinking. No matter what questions he thought of or what thoughts he had, it always cycled back to that one word-Why?   
     Mark didn’t like that word. 

     Joanne, meanwhile, was starting to get annoyed. The resources she could find for this case were limited, and none of them were very compelling. The issue certainly wasn’t a rare one (although it should have been), but the sources legislation held about it certainly were.   
     She wasn’t expecting Mark to walk in again. Not so soon.   
     The younger man came in and sat down in the chair across from Joanne, looking tired. When he realized he’d entered without knocking, his eyes grew wide and he sat up straight as a rod. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he said, frenetic. “I should’ve knocked, I’ll just-“   
     “Mark, it’s fine. Sit down,” Joanne reassured him. Although surprised, she didn’t mind him intruding. Not now. Not with this case.   
     With that, Mark relaxed. The chair was comfortable, and he felt that it was safe.   
     Joanne knew that.   
     There was a silence, then, and it was good.   
     Joanne went back to writing. 

     There is not much that I can find for this particular case, and that is very unfortunate. Mark needs help. It’s the reason he came to me, of course. But I am scared of what will happen ~~if~~  when he tries to testify in court. When I ask him to, he can barely recount it to me. I don’t fault him for that. Not at all, though more...harsh souls may do so. He is fragile. Like a statue made of glass. Oh, damn it. I’m not poetic. That’s for his...artist friends. I don’t quite understand them.

    Mark spoke up just then. “Can I-Can I use your, um...” He waved in the direction of Joanne’s coffee maker, forgetting the name because it was late. “...thing to make hot chocolate?”   
    Joanne nodded. “I’ll just...continue writing this, um...” she looked down at the paper, which was turning out to be a journal entry. Gross. Joanne did not like diaries. “...legal minutia.”   
    “Cool.” Mark got up and went over to the coffee maker. “It’s out. I can-there’s a grocery store down the street, it’s a three minute walk, I’ll go and buy some.”   
    “Do you have money?” Joanne asked, but there was an edge in her voice that implied she wasn’t just asking about money.   
     Mark nodded. His back was turned. “Roger had a good night at the bar yesterday. I’ll be back in six minutes.” He left, the door shutting behind him. 

      Oh, Mark.

     —————————————

     “Joanne?” 

      Joanne hadn’t recognized the number, and she wasn’t religious, but upon hearing Mark’s voice, she thanked God that she’d picked up. Mark sounded scared. 

     “Mark! Where-where are you? You said six minutes! What the fuuuu....f...what the hell happened?!” 

     “I’m...” Joanne could hear noise behind Mark. People talking about  _doing six months, new guy,_ and...oh dear Jesus Christ please tell her that she did  _not_ hear that word. “I don’t-I’m still not...sure what happened. And they said I only have ten minutes to make a phone c-“ 

     Joanne gasped sharply and her hand flew to her mouth. “They arrested you?!” 

     A sob was let out from Mark. “I don’t know! I was just trying to buy something in the self-checkout lane! But they thought I looked suspicious, and, and, I’ve been in those protests before, I’m white! It’s not cool that they arrest people of color disproportionately but I always thought I was safe! And they knew, oh, god, somehow they knew that I’m-“ Mark paused. “..well, you know, I can’t say it now because I want to be as safe as possible, and and and-I don’t know! They thought I was stealing! It just proves it, I look too fe-“ 

    Joanne hear a muffled _hurry up with that fucking phone_ in the back.

    “They said it meant I was impersonating...being a...a con artist...” 

    “No, you-“ 

    “And I’ve heard,” Mark spoke quicker now, “that the rate of sexual assault against trans people is way higher in here! I can’t go through that again!” Mark was crying. 

     Joanne could feel a hole being ripped through her chest right where her heart was. She’d let Mark down. 

     “I’ll get you out,” she said. She had to. 


End file.
